


Play Me, I’m Yours

by marauder_in_warblerland



Category: Glee
Genre: Erotica, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauder_in_warblerland/pseuds/marauder_in_warblerland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt notices Blaine’s new <em>fascination </em>with Ryder Lynn, but he’s fairly certain that it won’t be a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Me, I’m Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to [gluttonous-penguin](http://gluttonous-penguin.tumblr.com/) and [amongsoulsandshadows](http://amongsoulsandshadows.tumblr.com/) for being the best betas a writer could ask for! You’re both terrific readers and delightful human beings.

“And you wouldn’t believe the look on his face, Kurt. He’s been bouncing his way through choreography since October and he thought we’d never notice. He was actually bouncing.” Blaine does a bit of bouncing himself as he dances through Kurt’s bedroom.

Kurt sits perched on the corner of the bed, a smile playing in the corners of his lips. Even after a flight and several delays on his way to New York, Blaine can hardly sit still for all of the nervous energy radiating from his toes.

“We set up a number that was supposed to be for Nationals, you know?” Blaine says, turning into a pivot. “On the second run we all started bouncing, and it took him almost a verse to realize that we were making fun of him!” He spins to face Kurt with a wide smile, only to find his fiancé looking positively bemused.

“What?” Blaine falters. “He thought it was funny.”

“I’m sure he did,” Kurt says, toying with the end of his scarf. “So … Ryder huh?”

Blaine pauses and squints up at his face. “Ryder what? He’s the only one who was making up his own choreography.”

“Mmmm. Yes.” Kurt leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. “And I’m sure you noticed right away, hmm?”

“Kurt?” Blaine moves to sit beside his fiancé on the bed, his grin fading from delight to confusion.

“I’m only saying,” Kurt begins slowly, “that you might have mentioned his name one or two _dozen_ times over the last few months.”

Blaine’s mouth falls open as Kurt continues, a lazy smirk slowly spreading across his face.

“It’s not that I’m jealous, Blaine, but what am I supposed to think?” He stands and saunters towards the closed curtain, the picture of innocent curiosity. “First there was Sam and now Ryder? This new Glee club might be getting too attractive for me to leave my sexy, future husband unattended.”

He turns, arms folded in front of his chest and waits for the future husband in question to stop sputtering.

“He-“ Blaine finally manages. “He’s a sophomore!”

Kurt scoffs. “And you were only a sophomore when Jeremiah happened, but I bet he got an eyeful before the GAP kicked him to the curb. Ryder’s not an infant, honey. Plus,” he takes a few steps and leans in towards Blaine’s ear, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “I was there for Sectionals, and he has fantastic arms.”

Blaine shoots a wary glance towards the curtain and then back up at Kurt’s waiting face. Finally, he leans forward and whispers back, “You have no idea what they’re like up close. The kid could bench-press me without breaking a sweat.”

For a second, they both hold serious faces in a silent game of chicken, but then Kurt snorts and they break, giggling and wheezing in long heaving breaths.

“Oh my god.”  Kurt leans his forehead against Blaine’s. “I deserve an Oscar. You looked like you were about to jump out the window.”

“I was!” Blaine swats him and snorts into his shoulder. “But you did get one thing right. You monster.” Kurt giggles and shoves him back. “The New Directions are unfairly attractive right now. Can you even imagine what Sam and Ryder’s love child would look like? The kid would probably have a six-pack by pre-school.”

He flops back on the bed, still gasping for breath, and watches as Kurt sits back down by his side, contemplating the ceiling with purpose. After a count of ten, Blaine snaps once and then again in front of Kurt’s face.

“Have I lost you?” he laughs. “Are imaginary baby abs that fascinating?”

“Not particularly,” Kurt shrugs, still thoughtful. “But I was interested in the baby-making process, if you catch my drift.”

“Kurt!”

“Oh don’t sound so scandalized, I know I’m not the only pervert in this relationship.”

Blaine side-eyes what he can see of Kurt’s shoulder. “Fair enough, but you said it first. Sam would probably go for it too, if you got him tipsy enough.”

“Oh really? So my junior year gaydar wasn’t quite as broken as I thought?”

“Not going that far,” Blaine rolls on to his side and smirks down, head propped on his hand. “For a while there you thought the Warblers were having gay orgies between competitions.”

“Imagine my disappointment,” Kurt says, with a theatrical pout. “Here I go, switching schools, and all I get is the love affair between Wes and his gavel.”

“Epic. That was epic love.”

“Indeed, but you’re saying that if we gave Sam a few Mojitos, we might get a show?” Kurt raises a single eyebrow in Blaine’s direction.

“Perhaps not a show, but neither of them is what you might call a full zero on the Kinsey scale either.”

“True.”

“I could imagine,” Blaine chooses his next word carefully, “ _situations_ in which there might be a show.” Kurt bites his lip as Blaine’s smile turns positively wicked. “Let’s say they’re at a party. Almost everyone has gone home and they’ve both had just a few too many cups of Kitty’s special punch. They’re not drunk, but they’ve had just enough to feel a little loose around the edges…”

“Oh have they?” Kurt lays back and watches intently as Blaine loses himself in his imagination. “Are they tired at this party?”

“Strangely,  no.” Blaine chuckles under his breath and his eyes sparkle in the fading light. “It’s late, you know, and they’re laying on a bed a lot like this one.”

“Mmmm?”

“Mmm hmmm. Things have gotten awfully hazy and Sam’s about to graduate. This is the last time they’ll ever lay like this, just the two of them.” He gestures to the bed and smiles. “If all of that happened, I wouldn’t be _surprised_ if Ryder just reached over and ran his hand down Sam’s cheek, like this.” Blaine stretches out his hand as he speaks and slowly trails his finger tips from Kurt’s temple down to his chin, just tracing the curve of his jaw.

Kurt shivers as his fiancé’s fingers leave his skin and hover near his lips. That’s a dare, if there ever was one.

“Ryder, what are you doing? Is this a joke?” Kurt says, affecting his best gruff growl. He can’t help that he’s a bit breathless. Blaine’s thumb is drawing slow lines back and forth on his lower lip, and a man can only take so much.

Blaine smiles. “Is that what Sam sounds like?”

“It is now … _Ryder_.” Kurt growls, eyebrows raised in a silent challenge.

“Oh,” Blaine murmurs. “Is that how it is?” Kurt feels a shudder ripple up his spine as his fiancé’s posture shifts. He’s not Blaine anymore. Not really. His eyes are more earnest and he’s staring at Kurt’s mouth like a man in the desert stares at water.

“Of course I’m not kidding, Sam,” Blaine breathes. “I’ve been wanting to touch you since—god, I don’t even remember. I just didn’t know how. If you don’t want this, I’ll— I’ll go and we don’t ever have to talk about it. I just—” He breaks off, a palpable fear in his eyes, and suddenly Kurt wants to smack him for being such a good actor.

Instead, he grips _Ryder’s_ arm, just below the bicep. “You just what? Tell me.”

Blaine steadies his gaze and says, “I just needed to know how you felt.”

They freeze, eyes locked and uncertain. This isn’t entirely play anymore, but Kurt can’t bring himself to care. His pulse throbs as he reaches up to cup Blaine’s face in one shaking hand. “Come here,” he whispers, and pulls him in for Sam and Ryder’s first kiss.

As soon as their lips touch in a soft, dry press, Blaine surges forward, his hands on either side of Kurt’s head. He sucks Kurt’s lower lip into his mouth, hard enough to bruise, and holds it as their lips begin to move in an uneven push and pull. When Blaine’s lips fall open in a “god yesss,” Kurt’s tongue darts in to slide against his own, slow and then faster, working him open from the inside.

With a dirty pop, Blaine pulls their mouths apart and scrambles to rearrange his body, chest against chest, hands on either side of Kurt head, and one leg, high and snug between Kurt’s twitching thighs. They’ve spent more hours than Kurt can count kissing, breathing into each other’s mouths, and yet every connection point from their foreheads to their tangled toes feels foreign.

Blaine has never scratched Kurt’s skin trying to reach one hand under his shirt and Kurt has never clawed at Blaine’s back in long, desperate drags. Together, they’re needy and clumsy in ways that Kurt doesn’t recognize, full of bumping teeth and awkward elbows that Blaine and Kurt have long since learned to navigate. But as Ryder and Sam?

Kurt sucks in a shuddering breath and moves to grasp the weight of Blaine’s ass with both hands. This game feels just illicit enough as themselves and as their _other_ selves to make Kurt harder than he’s ever been in his life. He ruts up into Blaine’s thigh, arching into the single point of sensation and then Blaine shifts and—

“Ohhh.” Blaine is throbbing heat grinding down into Kurt’s pelvis, the full line of his cock straining against his corduroy pants and Kurt’s jeans.

“Stop,” Kurt says and Blaine is off in an instant. “Wait! I mean— _Ryder_ , have you ever done this before?”

The burgeoning fear in Blaine’s eyes fades back to pleasure. “No,” he smiles. “But I want to, with you. Can I—?” He gestures towards Kurt’s shirt.

Kurt nods, and for several long minutes they’re a blur of contact and fumbling fingers, struggling to remove clothing from bodies that feel suddenly, shockingly new.

 

****************

 

Blaine’s known the spot on Kurt’s clavicle that makes him moan full-throated filth since his junior year of high school, but Ryder doesn’t know the first thing about Sam’s clavicle or his nipples or the line of hair below his belly. So Blaine explores, like a navigator in an uncharted world.

He rediscovers the line of muscle along Kurt’s shoulders with his lips and, with their pants lost to the floor, he hears the delicious keening sounds that come out of his fiancée’s mouth when he nips at his spread inner thighs. With each high whine, Kurt bucks into open air, and Blaine watches as his cock twitches against his stomach, red and full. That desire is for him; he made that happen and even now Blaine cannot comprehend that he deserves it.

“Sam,” he asks, voice taut. “Do you have any lube?”

Kurt nods fast, eyes closed and arms spread, with fistfuls of sheets in each hand. “Yes. In the bed stand, but Ryder—“he lets out a long, shaky breath, “please hurry.”

Blaine moves with practiced ease to the bed stand and back, kneeling between Kurt’s legs and popping the bottle open in a single, fluid motion. At the sound, Kurt scoots towards the edge of the bed, but he pauses in surprise when Blaine kisses the base of his cock and begins tracing tentative, lubed circles below it towards the cleft of his ass.

“Is this okay?” he asks. Blaine slows at the tense in Kurt’s muscles. “Do you— do you want my fingers?”

“Inside?” Kurt opens his eyes and stares down at the stunning man between his legs.

“Inside.” Blaine nods and Kurt nods back, almost in unison.

Kurt pulls one knee up until it’s flush with his shoulder and, for a moment, Blaine just stares open-mouthed and brazen at Kurt’s clenching ass. He could come just like this, watching his future husband open and trusting, but his circles resume. He traces a stuttering path towards Kurt’s opening with his right hand, his slick index finger tracing ever-smaller circles around his entrance. When he skims the rim with the pad of a warm finger, Kurt’s breath hitches and he clenches around nothing.

With his left hand, he circles his fingers around the base of Kurt’s cock and slides slowly towards the head, dragging his thumb along the full vein underneath. It’s awkward, to be sure. He doesn’t usually use his left hand, not on himself and not on Kurt, so the angles are all off. Surprisingly, that makes it almost perfect.

His hand skitters along Kurt’s shaft from base to tip, circling around and back down until they’re both whimpering and the lube’s gone tacky with use. He should stop to get more, or lick his palm until Kurt’s cock slides in and out of his grip, but he can’t bring himself to stop touching the throbbing skin long enough to reach for the bottle on the floor.

“Oh god,” Kurt moans. “Keep going.” He thrusts hard into Blaine’s fist.

Blaine’s eyes shift quickly from the lube bottle to his own fingers, skimming the edge of Kurt’s wet hole. He’s breathing heavily now and he might not be thinking clearly, but sometimes a man needs to improvise. As he finally inches one, still-wet, finger inside, he catches Kurt’s wide, open eyes and lowers his mouth over as much of his leaking cock as he can manage.

The lube tastes oddly synthetic as he licks long, slow spirals around Kurt’s head, but that’s nothing next to the pleasure he gets from the sounds coming out of his fiancé’s babbling lips. He’s almost singing, keening _yes_ and _fuck_ and _oh oh oh oh_ _god I love you_ to the rhythm of first one and then two fingers forcing their way in and out of his open body.

Kneeling at the end of the bed, Blaine gasps around Kurt’s tiny thrusts, and he ruts against the soft, firm side of the covered mattress. The way that Kurt shudders against the tips of his fingers is usually enough to have him praying for release, but Kurt’s also done this for him before— just once. But once was enough.

It was almost a year ago, after Nationals, but he can still recall every detail of that night. He can still picture the stretch and pull of Kurt’s mouth around his cock, the way he wanted to push forward in stuttering bursts into the warm, wet mouth and, simultaneously, to push back into the thrust of fingers as they hammered into his prostate. It had been the most confusing and erotic sensation of his life, and he can see every bit of that perfect agony playing across the planes of his lover’s face.

Blaine sucks in hard, hollowing his cheeks as Kurt spreads his legs even wider.

“Fuck. Harder, _please_ ,” Kurt pleads. God, his voice is wrecked. Blaine pushes in with a third finger and the full weight of his bicep, until he’s almost lifting Kurt off of the bed. With each thrust up and in, he forces Kurt’s cock harder into his own waiting mouth. And then, he doesn’t need to push anymore. Kurt’s pitching his own shuddering hips back and forth from Blaine’s fingers between his cheeks, to the pink, swollen O of Blaine’s lips.

Blaine grunts, low and primal, as Kurt pushes into his mouth again and again, the erratic rhythm shaking a cadence into his bones.  He leans forward on his knees and rocks against the rough fabric of the comforter. _Fuckfuckfuck_. It almost hurts, but he’s so, so close. The heat coils, low and tight in his gut.

“I can’t— I can’t,” Kurt squirms against his fingers. “I’m almost —”

Blaine feels it now, the throb building in Kurt’s balls and in his veins. It’s delicious, it’s gorgeous, and it’s theirs.

“ShitGOD oh shit. _Bl-Ryder!_ ”

Kurt tries to pull back, away from his fiancé’s mouth, but Blaine sinks lower and heaves his full weight forward, thrusting four, three, two times against the mattress.

“I’m com— You’re not—?” Kurt’s eyes shoot open as Blaine crooks his fingers and they’re both gone.

The world disappears into an explosion of white light and heat behind Blaine’s fluttering eyelids. He feels Kurt’s body spasm around his fingers and Kurt’s hands dig into his hair, until the pressure feels like the only connection tethering Blaine to his wide-open body. Eventually he stops shaking and crawls back into bed, but he still can’t separate one moment from the next; it’s all a blur of whispers and blood pumping under warm skin. When Blaine comes back to himself, they’re already lying on what he will always consider Kurt’s side of the bed. He blinks at the dying light outside the window and cuddles into his fiancé’s chest.

They’ll have time to talk about it tomorrow.

******************

 

But they don’t.

They don’t have time and they don’t talk about it. As soon as Blaine wakes up he has to rush to print his boarding passes and call a cab for the airport. Taking the subway or the bus is already out of the question.

Back home, he has to catch up on the homework he neglected while shuttling to and from New York, while Kurt is in a mad rush to stuff three days worth of vocal runs and dance rehearsals into twenty-four sleepless hours. It’s nothing they haven’t dealt with before. It would be easier, of course, if either of them could make peace with mediocrity, even for one assignment, but it just isn’t in their DNA. So after every visit, they emerge days later, rough around the edges and ready to start the grueling process all over again.

By now, it’s their routine, and it’s wonderfully exhausting, but it also leaves them even less time than usual for Skype dates and texting.

That is how Blaine finds himself fielding an impossibly awkward text conversation in the middle of pre-calculus:

 **(To Blaine):** We need to talk about this.

 **(To Kurt):** _cryptic text is cryptic_

 **(To Kurt):** Talk about what?

 **(To Blaine):** Did we actually—?

 **(To Kurt):** OH

 **(To Kurt):** that

 **(To Kurt):** yes

 **(To Kurt):** do we have to talk about that?

 **(To Blaine):** That depends.

 **(To Blaine):** Did we actually roleplay as our friends?

 **(To Kurt):** ummmmm

 **(To Blaine):** No. Strike that. Did we actually role play as _your_ best friend and _your_ underage boy crush?

 **(To Blaine):** Is that something that actually happened or are my fantasies getting more elaborate?

 **(To Kurt):** fantasies huh? ; )

 **(To Blaine):** shut up Blaine

 **(To Kurt):** no. I think we should talk about your fantasies a little more. Imaginary sam and ryder were great, considering their lack of experience, but if you have anyone else in mind…

 **(To Blaine):** BLAINE

 **(To Kurt):** Maybe jake? I know you don’t know him well, but he’s really nice and OH MIKE. Kurt what about mike? 

 **(To Blaine):** lalala I can’t hear you deflowering our friends. LALALALA 

 **(To Kurt):** deflowering? You really haven’t met jake.

 **(To Blaine):** If you suggest Mr. Schue, I swear I will kill you in your sleep and no court will hold me responsible. 

 **(To Kurt):** hey kurt?

 **(To Kurt):** hey

 **(To Kurt):** hey

 **(To Kurt):** kurt

 **(To Blaine):**  ?

 **(To Kurt):** Thank you for being my pervert.

 **(To Blaine):** I love you too Blaine.


End file.
